


like strangers in the dark

by unraelated



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blue Lions Route spoilers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Oral Sex, Pining, Size Difference, implied canonical racism, in which nobody notices ashe's ptsd, though that's kind of a given with them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21657457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unraelated/pseuds/unraelated
Summary: A series of snapshots in Ashe and Dedue's lives.Alternatively: 5 times Dedue almost made Ashe cry and 1 time he made Ashe feel something else altogether.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 29
Kudos: 480
Collections: FE3H Holiday Gift Exchange





	like strangers in the dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hinkelvinkel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hinkelvinkel/gifts).



> This is for the FE3H Holiday Gift Exchange! I'm sorry it's so long, I got really carried away, but hope you like it!

The first time Dedue spoke to him, Ashe was surprised at just how soft his voice was.

Coming to Garreg Mach was frightening enough on it’s own (what if he wasn’t good enough? What if he made a fool of himself? What if someone saw through him and recognized the thief he once was?), but to be then placed in the same class as his future King and so many of the young nobles of the generation… well, Ashe could barely find it in him to speak to any of his classmates for some time.

And then of course, there was Dedue. Large and broad, the sheer size of him was imposing, the way he always seemed to take up a position at Dimitri’s side meant that they never really interacted, as Ashe spent the first few weeks just trying to practice acting composed in Dimitri’s presence.

A difficult task, even at the best of times. Sure, Lonato and his servants had taught Ashe the basics of nobility, how to talk to other lords and nobles, how to be polite and courteous. They’d trained the street slang out of him, taught him which fork to eat with, how to hold a teacup and do any number of other things that nobles were expected to do.

But this was his first time _unsupervised_. This was the first time that Ashe found himself really alone, needing to fend for himself, since before Lonato took him in. Surrounded by nobility from across the continent and finding himself face to face with the leaders of the church was all a bit overwhelming.

 _’I have faith in you,’_ Lonato had told him on the morning of his departure. Ashe clung to that memory like a lifeline throughout the majority of his first few weeks, replaying Lonato’s words in his mind over and over until he could finally bear to say hello to the Fraldarius and Gautier heirs, until he could stand to be in the same room as his prince without wanting to shrink back into the hallway.

It wasn’t until the two of them shared kitchen duty that Ashe really had an opportunity to speak with Dedue. For once, Dedue was away from Dimitri as his chores list required and Ashe watched quietly, sleepily, while he mixed the batter for the morning pancakes.

Ashe blinked some of the sleep from his eyes and set to work on the eggs, breaking them and pouring the contents into the pan. This was something he was familiar with - while eggs were something of a delicacy on the streets, they were cheaper than most other sources of protein and so Ashe would try to get them whenever they could afford it.

Except... most of the time, when he’d been cooking, he’d been alone in the kitchen.

“I’ll need that pan when you’re done,” Dedue murmured, an innocent request, and yet the suddenness of it made Ashe jump, the remnants of the eggshell slipping out of his hand and falling into the pan.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard Dedue speak before.

“Oh!” Ashe exclaimed, embarrassed at his own mistake and stumbling back to try and fix the issue. Something, something - a spatula could probably get the excess shell out of the mixture, right? Ashe reached for it, but he was halted by Dedue’s gentle touch on his shoulder.

“...my apologies,” the larger man said quietly, “I did not mean to startle you. Allow me.”

What could Ashe do but acquiesce? He bit his lip, taking a small step back while Dedue expertly maneuvered a small fork into the mix to flick out the little bits of egg shell that Ashe had dropped in.

“Sorry,” he found himself mumbling, a flush warm on his cheeks. “I- I didn’t mean to, you just… surprised me.”

Dedue watched him for a moment, contemplative, and Ashe would have given anything to be able to flee in that moment. Instead, all he could do was wait while Dedue turned back to the eggs, tending to them with a more practiced skill and leaving Ashe with little else to do.

“I understand. My presence has put you on edge.” There’s a pause, while Dedue slid the spatula Ashe had been using underneath the eggs, flipping it easily in the pan without breaking the yolk. “I’m sure many would say the same. I am a man from Duscur, after all.”

It took Ashe a moment to fully process that - the meaning of Dedue’s words were far enough beyond Ashe’s reality that the implication of his being unsettled due to… well, _that_... struck low in his stomach and made him wish that the ground would just swallow him whole.

“That isn’t it!” Ashe squeaked, as quickly as he could. Dedue, clearly not expecting that sort of protest, turned back to him again, his brow furrowed. “No, I just…”

He fidgeted, embarrassed once more under Dedue’s watchful eye. When Ashe spoke again, his voice was soft, meek.

“...I’m used to cooking alone,” he admitted, “I got absorbed in my task and forgot that you were… here…”

Was that better or worse than Dedue’s assumption? Ashe wanted to wince, but he couldn’t take it back now. It was difficult to even look toward Dedue, but Ashe managed a peek from under the fringe of his silver bangs and saw… maybe a hint of a smile?

He couldn’t get a better look though, because Dedue had already turned back to the eggs, his shoulders as firm as ever.

“I didn’t know that you had cooking experience,” Dedue finally said, stepping back and offering Ashe the position in front of the stove. “When I had kitchen duty with Sylvain, I wound up doing most of the work.”

In his awkward state, Ashe couldn’t help but chuckle at that, having had experience with the very same thing.

“Right? I had to kick him out of the kitchen! Felix wasn’t much better, but at least he could stir without making a mess…”

“A word of warning,” Dedue offered, quiet like it was some deep and terrible secret, “if you ever get cooking duty with his highness… consider leaving him to stirring duty as well.”

Ashe couldn’t stop himself - it was just so _forbidden_ in his mind, saying anything remotely bad about the crown prince, that he burst into a bright laugh as Dedue turned away to check the consistency of his pancake batter… but despite not being able to see his face, Ashe could see the shaking of his shoulders with his own repressed laughter.

For the first time since coming to Garreg Mach, Ashe thought - maybe he’d found a friend. Someone who felt like an outsider like himself, someone who also didn’t quite fit in this school filled with nobility and future leaders.

His spark of optimism faded a moment later with both of their laughter, when the kitchen grew quiet and still.

“...you shouldn’t be seen laughing with me,” Dedue told him, taking Ashe’s recently-emptied pan to clean it for his own use, “people will talk.”

“What?”

No response. 

Ashe didn’t know how to really react to that - was Dedue trying to protect his reputation or something? Luckily, Ashe didn’t have much of one anyway, surely Dedue knew that? Their short conversation had been the first time since coming here that Ashe had actually felt… at ease, happy with someone else. To have it pulled swiftly out from under him as if Dedue had only just remembered their places… well, it hurt, and Ashe wanted to protest, but didn’t want to risk angering the only other person who he’d thought he could befriend.

Dedue didn’t respond to him and remained quiet for the rest of the morning.

_

Lonato fought to the bitter end. Ashe supposed that if there was any respect to be offered him in death, it would be because of that.

Nobody really spoke to him on the way back. Oh, Dimitri tried, but how did you apologize to someone after they witnessed you murdering their father? ( _Was_ it murder? Was it self defense? Was it just - war? Ashe didn’t know what to call it. He didn’t think he’d ever know.) Their conversation was stilted, awkward, and eventually Dimitri left him to walk near Dedue’s side again.

Ashe was given a small reprieve from his schoolwork in the wake of the battle and he’d spent most of it in his room going through his things. Books given to him by Lonato - the uniforms Lonato had bought for him, the bow he’d been given on his last birthday. All of it felt tainted now, all of it felt unearned.

What would the church do to him? Would they kick him out? Where would he even go? Lonato had no further sons, but being adopted, Ashe never expected to inherit any of his legacy - and that was _if_ the king regent didn’t posthumously strip him of his lands and riches as the price to be paid for betraying the church of Fodlan.

The first thing Ashe did was to draft a letter back to his siblings, to inquire after them and pray that they were alright. If Lonato dragged them into his rebellion… no, he couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have done that, would he?

Ashe knew that he couldn’t leave, knew that he couldn’t go to them, though he wanted to more than anything. If the eldest son of a traitor left the moment the traitor was brought down - no, it would throw undue suspicion on him and put his siblings in danger, if they weren’t in it already.

So in the end, it was all he could do to lay there and stare at the ceiling and wait for the other shoe to drop.

He waited for three days.

Rhea did not call him to her chapel, nor did he get summons from Seteth. The professor did not tell him that he was expelled. No one said anything to him at all. It was as if he was… forgotten entirely, in the wake of the planning for the new month.

It didn’t anger him to be forgotten, but it did make him remember how lonely he was. How lonely he’d been since arriving here at Garreg Mach. _’I have faith in you,’_ Lonato had said, but the memory had turned sour with his rebellion and Ashe could no longer take comfort from it.

It seemed like there was nothing to do except pray - pray that Lonato’s soul could find the Goddess despite Rhea condemning him, pray for his siblings’ safety, and selfishly pray that someone could someday take notice of him.

Ashe tugged on his boots. He needed some fresh air anyway, and moving to the church proper might do some good. He knew that sometimes Marianne or Mercedes visited there - maybe he could talk to them about what might happen to his adoptive father’s soul.

He might have made it there too, if he hadn’t opened his door to see Dedue standing on the other side.

Dedue blinked at him in surprise, clearly not expecting Ashe’s door to open so suddenly. In turn, Ashe stared right back, startled, but not so skittish as to yelp in surprise this time.

“I, um,” he started, fumbling with his manners, “...hello.”

“I’m sorry,” Dedue tried, his gaze dropping down, and only then did Ashe notice the potted plant in his hands. “I should have knocked. I was about to, but I wasn’t sure if you… that is, if you wanted to speak to anyone.”

He’d never seen Dedue so flustered. Usually, the taller man was quiet and solemn, which allowed him to always come across as being in full control of himself. Ashe had been watching him idly, ever since that morning in the kitchens and he’d noticed Dedue’s solid composure, how he seemed to mask any feelings he might have had in dutiful words and actions.

Ashe, who had never been good at hiding anything, had found himself jealous. And then - intrigued.

But there wasn’t exactly time to consider it, and while it was all starting to trickle back in, there were bigger questions at hand. Such as…

“...why are you carrying a plant?”

“Ah. This.” Dedue swallowed hard and regained his grip on the conversation with Ashe’s helpful lead-in, and he nodded down to the object in question, his mouth set in a thin line. “This is a sapling.”

Ashe wasn’t quite able to draw any sort of conclusions from that and just tilted his head, his earlier melancholy temporarily forgotten at the absurdity of the situation.

“I… I see,” he finally managed. Dedue was still standing in his doorway.

After another fraught moment or so, he composed himself and shook his head, continuing -

“There was a tradition in Duscur. When you take a life, you plant a seed. That way, you create instead of just destroying. You - bring balance to yourself.”

Ashe didn’t know what to say to that, but he found himself momentarily disarmed by Dedue’s sudden admission. Months, they’d gone to school together with almost nothing said between them, with Dedue practically never mentioning Duscur - and now this?

Luckily, Dedue seemed to expect his speechlessness and carried on, his voice growing softer as he glanced away.

“...I did not strike the killing blow on your father. But I watched it happen. There was a relief in my heart to know that he could not hurt anyone I cared about. And so… I planted this several days ago.” He shifted, still uncomfortable, but not so much so that it prevented him from holding the small pot out toward Ashe, like a peace offering. “I waited to see if it would take before offering it to you. It’s a maple, from the Gaspard territory.”

Ashe took it, their fingers on the pot brushing together as Dedue delicately transferred it into his hands. Looking closer like this, Ashe could see the thin green sprout in the center, firm and defiant looking, well-tended with damp dirt around it, evidence of care.

Lonato. This was - in some way, this was for Lonato.

His gaze lifted up over the pot and higher until he could look Dedue in the face, and Ashe could feel his expression fracturing as emotion began to overtake him but still, he could not think of what to say.

“Dedue…”

The taller man stepped back then, the exchange over. He seemed content to let Ashe cry in private, and while ordinarily, Ashe would very much like to not show his weakness to anyone, he felt like this was the closest he’d gotten to another student since enrolling, and he’d been _so_ lonely…

“Wait - “

Dedue stopped still at that, allowing for Ashe to turn and set the pot down on his small desk, before moving back to the door, following the larger man out into the open hall.

“...thank you,” he finally worked out to say, and Ashe choked it out from his throat that felt too tight. “I know that we aren’t - that you and his highness are always…”

Goddess, why could he never work out the right words to say?

“What I mean is... I want to be your friend,” he admitted, flushing and glancing away. “I know you said that people would spread rumors about me, but - given that my adopted father just lead a rebellion against the church, I’d say they’re doing that already.”

Dedue was silent in response and Ashe recalled suddenly the way he got quiet last time too, as if he had conditioned himself to pull away when he thought he might be getting too close. Ashe didn’t want him to pull away then.

“You’re the only person who’s been nice to me since we got back. I know I’m… kind of pathetic…” Ashe fought back tears as he said it, pressing his hand over his eyes, tried to swallow down the swell of self loathing that was quickly rising in response to his awkward admissions. “-but I don’t have many friends here. And it seems like we have a lot in common.”

What was he even getting at? Poor Dedue, trying to do something _nice_ for someone and getting accosted by Ashe’s demands for his friendship. Why would he want to be friends with someone like Ashe anyway? Everyone could see the kind of person he was, ever since the first time he’d picked open a locked chest that they’d found in the bandit stronghold. Someone as honorable and kind as Dedue would never -

“Ashe.” Dedue’s voice broke him out of his whirling thoughts, and Dedue’s hand on his wrist served to gently lower his hand, which had been hiding his damp lashes from view. “I would like that.”

“...you would?” he asked, incredulous, but Dedue just watched him with warmth in his expression, the kind of warmth that filled him with some other sort of emotion.

Dedue nodded and belatedly released his grip on Ashe’s wrist, his fingers curling in on themselves after as if they missed the solid weight of Ashe’s arm underneath them.

“I regretted when I said to you in the kitchen. I was trying to protect you, but… the truth is, I don’t have many friends here either.”

And there were - there were so many things between them still, there was Lonato and there was Dedue’s entire life of being discriminated against, there was the future king, but in that moment, Ashe wanted nothing more than to reach out for him again, to spend hours talking to him, getting to know him, laughing with him - to _bond_ , as he had not been able to bond with anyone since arriving here.

He let out a crooked smile, still sniffling through his emotion and nodded, keeping himself reserved for now, trying to match Dedue’s stance.

“I was… I was going to go to the church to pray,” he told him, looking downward and awkwardly twisting his fingers together, “but now I feel more like going to the greenhouse. Would you… do you want to come with me?”

Dedue gave another of his barely-there smiles at that, tipping his chin down in a nod.

“I would like that.”

_

Ashe held out hope until the very end.

With Lonato dead and Garreg Mach fallen, it was his responsibility to take over for house Gaspard. Suddenly thrust into a life he had almost no preparation for, Ashe found himself caught between the Imperial-leaning house Rowe and his loyalties to the Kingdom. He sent Dimitri letter after letter, imploring for his help, but heard nothing in return.

Then, Dimitri was executed. Then, Rowe officially declared for the Empire, and with a force three times the strength of anything Ashe could muster, he found himself collapsing under the weight of trying to hold the Southern aisles of the Kingdom with no support, all for a dead king.

Cornelia encroaching in the North. Rowe making preparations to advance from the South. No way of getting a messenger through the enemy lines to reach Sylvain or Felix, no way of doing anything at all.

Caught between two armies and in a world of isolation, Ashe sought shelter for his siblings and left the old manse, the same place that he once broke into almost ten years ago in search of food.

He stole out in the dead of night with a dark hood shadowing his face, every bit of him feeling a bitterness at what he’d been reduced to - a thief in the darkness, as if nothing had changed in the last decade.

But something did.

With nothing but an old promise and the hope of somehow seeing his allies again, Ashe made way for Garreg Mach a mere week before the festival. Dimitri may have been dead, but if there were others, if he could reach Sylvain or even Ingrid in that way - surely, they would have to help him.

Or Dedue… but Ashe had to push that thought from his mind. Dedue was loyal to Dimitri, and if Dimitri was dead, he shuddered to think of what would have happened to his truest friend. Gone were the days of their boyhood when they could spend time together in the kitchens or the gardens, gone were the days when Ashe would find Dedue at work planting some new fresh seeds and help him, admiring the way his strong hands looked in the dirt. 

Gone were the days of sharing the commoners’ tent between them on their way to their various missions, with Ashe waking in the middle of the night and watching Dedue breathe evenly in his sleep, thinking about what it might be to touch him, to hold his large and strong fingers against his own.

It was only this now. It was only… hunting on his own, bundling up in the cold, and making his way through the mountains to reach their promised meeting place.

It was only finding Dimitri alive after all, his fallen king barely more than a beast - someone who used to acknowledge him and treat him with kindness despite their differing stations had become an animal who snarled if he got too close.

It was only this: “Dedue. He’s dead. He died in my place.”

After, Ashe wandered as if in a trance. Everyone else had their friendships to rekindle, their greetings to offer one another, their attempts at gaining the attention of their darkened king. Ashe was supposed to be among them, was supposed to ask the others for help on the Southern border, but with Dimitri alive, with a new path to tread, and with Dedue…

He found himself in Dedue’s old room, a location that he knew by heart. The door slowly creaked open when Ashe pushed at it, revealing a dusty and untouched bedroom.

The plants along the windowsill - flowers that Dedue had taken to growing in his spare time - were long dead, withered into nothingness and leaving only their small flowerpots behind. The books were dusted over, the clothing and weapons all packed in a hurry.

Ashe crouched to tug open the drawer of Dedue’s desk, revealing a small set of needles and thread and beneath it, several delicate looking handkerchiefs. He pulled them out, examining carefully the fragile and beautiful work that Dedue had once done and never told anyone about.

They were embroidered with initials, Ashe belatedly realized, each of theirs - Ingrid’s, Dimitri’s, and even Ashe’s own. Were they meant to be gifts?

His breath came out in a stuttered gasp as he slowly pulled the one with his initials from the rest, turning it over in his hands, his calloused fingers sliding over the embroidered flowers - green at the long stems and leaves and vines that bordered the edge of the fabric, with silver blossoms, the same shade as his hair.

He traced over it until he reached the edge of the needlework, a cut-off flower, tied hastily with a small knot, leaving a third of the cloth bare. Unfinished.

None of the other kerchiefs had flowers on them. None of the others were as detailed as his.

He didn’t want to ruin it, didn’t want to break this beautiful creation, but it crumpled in Ashe’s fingers all the same as he fell to sit on the dusty floorboards, slid backward until his back hit the frame of Dedue’s bed, and he began to cry.

_

They weren’t going to save his people, or free the Gaspard dukedom, or even go to Fhirdiad. They weren’t even going to try. But, if pressed, Ashe could agree that the war needed to end, and if Dimitri wanted to end it this way… well, what else could they do?

So Ashe fought for him again. Killed for him again, and Dimitri barely even looked at him. Mercedes healed him when he got hurt, Ingrid eventually reached out again with a new book she’d found, Ashe carried Dedue's embroidered handkerchief with him at all times, and the war continued around them. 

He was better than he was before at the Academy. He could nock an arrow in his bow and send it further, he had an eye for killing men through the small holes in their armor, and generally brought up the rear of Dimitri's army with an unerring expertise. 

But - he carried a small satchel of seeds with him. He counted his victims and crouched in the dirt afterward, metering out flower seeds like a merchant would count coins. 

It never made him feel any better.

The bridge was old but sturdy. Ashe remembered crossing it as a teenager on their way to the old competition between houses, remembered thinking that it was the biggest thing he’d ever seen. He was frightened of it for a few fraught moments - how could a bridge like that still be standing after so long? What if it crumbled away and fell?

But it didn’t. Not when he crossed it last and not when Dimitri's army crossed it in their pursuit of Edelgard. Instead, it held sturdy and Ashe gripped his bow just a little tighter as the enemy army showed their faces, the other end of the bridge blocked by dozens and dozens of men and women wearing Imperial colors.

Dimitri snarled. Ashe’s fingers moved for an arrow.

A pair of footsteps echoed behind him and Ashe turned, startled as he raised his bow to try and stave off the ambush, only to have it go still in his hands from shock.

“...Dedue?”

The wind stole away his voice, but there he was, as clear as day. Dedue had a host of new scars decorating his face, his hair was cut a different way, shorn at the sides, but he still had all of his limbs intact and seemed to be relatively unharmed.

“Your highness,” Dedue called out, his voice carrying far further than Ashe’s. Dedue was looking at Dimitri who turned to face him, equally in shock. For a moment though, Dedue’s eyes turned to _him_ and Ashe met his green eyes for the first time in years.

They didn’t have time for greetings but Ashe could see the way that Dedue’s gaze tripped over him, five years older and taller, all traces of the childish roundness in his cheeks gone, in proper combat leathers and with a straightness in his shoulders that he’d learned to carry since becoming the leader of a household.

He didn’t know what to do with Dedue’s gaze.

But it wasn’t the time for that.

“Apologies for the late arrival,” Dedue continued, tearing his gaze away from Ashe to look back toward Dimitri.

The battle was short-lived after that, with the kingdom force’s morale boosted by the reappearance of a friend they thought was gone. Afterward, Dimitri took Dedue aside for a frantic conversation, something that Ashe could not overhear, but could see taking place in whispers and gestures between them.

They were interrupted by Sylvain leaning in, slinging an arm over Dedue’s shoulders, greeting him happily, and Mercedes’ soft laughter as she went to say hello as well. Annette, Catherine, even Ingrid went to see him, to appreciate how much he’d grown, to convey how happy they were that he was here, alive and well.

Ashe didn’t join in. He didn’t know what to say really, and he moved for the edge of the bridge to look over the railing at the water while he listened to everyone else celebrating Dedue’s return. It was a strange feeling, to have him back after so long. The way his heart surged when Dedue looked at him, the flutter in his throat when he felt the heat of his gaze, the _inadequacy_ he felt when realizing that Dedue had come back for Dimitri and not him.

He didn’t return to camp for awhile, even after listening as the footsteps of his friends faded away. The priests eventually came for the bodies left behind from the battle, cleaning the blood from the stone, and Ashe wanted to do something, to say something, but he didn’t know what. The seeds felt heavy on his belt, but now they had Dedue to plant them.

He felt unnecessary. Unneeded. And now, with Dedue, the joy that burst in his heart to see him alive - it wasn’t the same kind of joy that Sylvain or Dimitri felt, it was… something else entirely, something that frightened him more than anything else.

“...Ashe.”

Dedue’s voice came from behind him, saying his name the way he used to. When Ashe turned, he saw him, a fortress of a man, standing alone on the bridge behind him.

His heart caught in his throat again, the same way that it did when he first saw Dedue after so long. Ashe took a step backward, leaning his back against the railing of the bridge and looking up at him.

“Dedue… I…”

“I thought you might greet me with the others,” Dedue admitted and Ashe flushed in regret. “I wanted to speak to you.”

Ashe nodded, his mouth dry.

“I’m sorry. I… I didn’t know what to say.”

Dedue watched him knowingly, before striding closer so that he could stand next to Ashe, leaning on his elbows on the railing of the bridge. He looked out across the water, glimmering in the dappled and fading sunlight, and spoke again.

“What do you want to say?”

A thousand things flooded Ashe’s mind in response: _I missed you, I wanted you back, I wanted you to come back for me and not for Dimitri, I’ve dreamed about your hands, you’ve grown so handsome, I think I’m in love with you and it was easier to be in love with a dead man than it is to love someone who will never love you back_.

He was smart enough to stay quiet, to not blurt them out right away, and folded his arms in front of his chest, staring down toward the cobblestone.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he finally murmured, his mouth pressed in a thin line. Dedue didn’t look over to see it though, and so Ashe let another fragment of emotion slip through, sighing as he fought back the sudden swell of tears.

“And I, you.” Dedue admitted, folding his hands together. “I heard about your struggles at the border. I wished I could have helped you.”

“...you did?” Ashe asked, surprised. It was the first time someone else had brought it up - not that he could blame the others, they had so much to contend with already. But that Dedue, even when he had faked his own death, that he knew and cared enough to want to help… it meant something.

“Of course. But I am not surprised that you rose to the challenge.” Then, Dedue _did_ steal a glance in his direction with his familiar small smile, and Ashe’s heart felt like it was breaking all over again. “You’ve grown well.”

Ashe fought back a flush at that, but couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“You have too. When I heard that - when Dimitri said what happened...” The smile faded and Ashe pursed his lips, pulling his arms a little tighter around himself. “...I grieved for you.”

Dedue hummed in acknowledgement and Ashe couldn’t begin to unknot his feelings, deep and complicated and tied up in five years of fighting, of waiting, of their entire lives being turned upside down on them.

“I want to promise that I won’t leave you again, but I can’t. I will give my life for my people, for their opportunity to rebuild - I hope you can understand.”

Dedue turned to face him then, leaning a hip against the bridge and reaching for Ashe’s face. He’d taken his gauntlets off after the battle and the warm touch to his cheek made Ashe’s heart skip a beat, despite the sad subject. His eyes went wide as he looked up toward Dedue, scarcely able to breathe.

“But…” Dedue continued, turning Ashe toward him, sympathy in his brow, “I can promise to fight with everything in me to keep standing. I’m here now - I won’t disappear again.”

Ashe didn’t know what to say to that, what to make of that promise. Why would Dedue promise it to him instead of Dimitri? Why was Dedue touching his face, watching him with such intensity in his eyes? He couldn’t understand and it tangled further into his complex feelings until he just wanted to run.

He didn’t run, but only because in that moment, he smelled blood.

“Dedue - “ He started, his mouth falling open as he turned to see the gash on the back of Dedue’s hand presumably from their last fight, no longer openly bleeding but unbandaged, unhealed. “Dedue! Your hand.”

Dedue’s brows furrowed together, clearly not intending for his injury to take up so much of Ashe’s attention and his fingers curled slightly at Ashe’s cheek before he pulled back, regretful.

“Ah, my apologies. I didn’t notice…”

“How could you not notice?” Ashe asked, bewildered, his chest growing tight with concern. 

Realistically, he knew that it wasn’t a devastating injury, but seeing Dedue in any sort of pain struck fear in his heart, rekindled all of his intrusive thoughts that he’d had late at night when wondering how Dedue died, imagining him bleeding, arrows in his throat, nightmares of himself holding the bow.

He didn’t think, merely reached for Dedue’s wrist, holding his hand in place as he tugged his handkerchief out of his pocket - not the best bandage, but good enough until they could get him to Mercedes - and moved to cover the wound, to tie it somehow.

He was stopped by Dedue’s other hand, closing in over his wrist and holding him tight, keeping him from touching the kerchief to his wound.

Trapped in that moment, Ashe realized his mistake and his breath caught in his throat as Dedue’s eyes lingered over the unfinished embroidery, the lace edging, and Ashe’s initials lovingly sewn into the corner of the fabric.

Ashe’s mouth went dry. He didn’t know what to say, he felt his stomach falling away from him and he’d - he’d drop it now, but it would flutter away in the wind, and if it fell into the river then there’d be no getting it back and it was… it was all he had, all he’d ever have, and surely Dedue could - surely, it was understandable.

“...where did you get this?”

 _Thief_ , Ashe’s mind supplied, _pickpocket. Street rat_. He froze like a mouse under the gaze of a predator and looked away, dropping Dedue’s wrist and trying to pull his own hand out of Dedue’s powerful grip, but he wouldn’t let him go.

“ _Ashe_.”

His breathing came out in a shaky gasp and Ashe shook his head, his mouth moving to form words, but no sound coming out.

_Thief. Thief._

“- I thought you were dead.” He said suddenly, the words breathily tumbling out of his mouth, almost too fast to be understood. “I thought I’d never see you again, and you were dead - you were dead, and all I had was - you were dead and I never even held your hand, Dedue - “

Dedue’s eyes went wide, surprised, and he dropped Ashe’s hand quickly, shaking his head.

“I’m not mad. I just…”

Ashe looked up at him, bringing his hand back, tucking the kerchief against his chest. He could feel his heart pounding through his clothing. Could Dedue hear it, thundering in his ears?

But for once, Dedue seemed to be the one at a loss for words. He looked at Ashe, his gaze dropping again to the scrap of fabric held protectively in Ashe's fingers, and he tried to speak again.

“...I never finished it.”

Not mad. Not angry, not thinking less of him for taking things that weren’t his. Ashe looked down toward the ground, bathed in orange and red light from the setting sun, and bit his lip.

“I’m sorry,” he finally admitted, his eyes sinking shut. “It was all I had of you.”

Dedue took a step forward, closer to him. When Ashe opened his eyes, he could see the steel of his armored boot below him, hear the soft slide of metal on metal as Dedue reached for him, using his uninjured hand this time to tilt Ashe’s chin upward, to force him to look at him.

“You carried it with you,” he finally said, and his voice didn’t sound accusing at all. “All this time?”

Words caught in his throat, to see Dedue so close, to hear the vulnerability in his voice. Ashe looked up into his green eyes, the color of moss, and nodded once, his hand still pressed against his chest, holding the kerchief tight.

Dedue stared at him while the water beneath them splashed against the bridge and Ashe willed his knees not to tremble when the larger man tilted his chin up higher, higher, so that he could lean down to kiss him.

The kiss. The kiss.

It was everything Ashe wouldn’t let himself think about when he considered Dedue, every squeeze of his heart when he looked at him, every tear that he’d shed over the thought of his death. It was the handkerchief, the seeds, the thoughtful way that Dedue stirred the evening stew, the secret spices he’d add to their meals. It was his scars, his barely-there smile, the flush that bloomed over his cheeks when Ashe caught him off guard. It was his devotion to his people, his sympathy, how he had the largest heart of anyone Ashe had ever met.

It was _him_. It was Ashe, trembling when Dedue pulled away with warmth in his expression, his hand at Ashe’s chin slipping up to cup at his cheek again.

Ashe shivered, tipping his face into the touch and finally tucking away the handkerchief so he could move in closer, slide his arms around Dedue’s waist and embrace him. Dedue moved to hold him in turn, dwarfing him with his size and his armor, but Ashe wasn’t about to complain. He didn’t think he could ever complain about anything ever again.

_

“Another round,” the grizzled man at the bar slurred out, and Ashe smiled, closed the bar door with his hip and moved to fill his tankard without complaint. Coins clattered on the wood in payment and he scooped them up, filling his money pouch with them.

It was a good day. A group of warriors traveling from the Gautier lands had found their inn and paid well, with dozens of shining coins for a few rooms and a hearty meal. That alone could keep them afloat, could help them round out the menu for the next week when they went to the market for ingredients. With the additional coin from the soldiers at the bar, Ashe thought that he could even buy a few seeds, something to make Dedue smile when he planted them out back in their modest garden.

Ashe picked up a rag and wiped down the bar from the various spills and moved to the table to clean up the remnants of the dinner they’d served. He had a few plates in his hand when he turned to see Dedue standing in the doorway which separated the dining area of the inn from the kitchen, and Dedue - wasn’t smiling.

There was a paper clutched in his hands, dwarfed by his fingers, and Ashe tilted his head, balancing the plates as he moved toward him.

“Taxes again?” he asked, trying to peer at the contents, but Dedue held it just out of reach.

Dedue looked at him. The kind of searching, knowing look that Ashe could recognize, the kind of look that meant that Dedue was evaluating him, trying to understand something he’d done. There was silence, save for the clinking of the glass on the bar.

“...what is it? I can move funds around if we need to, I just think -”

“Why does Dimitri say you rejected a knighthood?”

Ashe stilled, only keeping the plates balanced in his hand due to knowing what the cost would be if he’d dropped them. Gingerly, he set them on the counter beside him, feeling small and insignificant under Dedue’s confused gaze.

“...what did he say?”

Dedue paused for a moment before reluctantly offering Ashe the letter. It was addressed to Dedue, not long: a short explanation of where they were with politics and Duscur, an update on his personal life, on Sylvain’s latest tryst - Ashe skimmed lower until he caught his name, ‘ _I had hoped to see you two in the capitol, but since Ashe turned down his knighthood, I suppose I’ll have to come to you myself sooner or later.’_

Nothing incriminating. Of course Dimitri wouldn’t know that Ashe didn’t tell Dedue, he’d just assume that they shared this information like they shared everything else.

Ashe swallowed hard, let Dedue take the letter back. Part of him, a stupid, childish part, wanted to get annoyed - _you walked away from Dimitri too_ , he wanted to say, _you chose here over Fhirdiad, why can’t I?_ but he knew that it was unfair, that Dedue seemed merely… confused.

When he didn’t speak, Dedue took a short step closer to him, folding the letter and tucking it into his pocket.

“...you’ve wanted this your entire life,” he said, soft, willing Ashe to look at him, but he couldn’t. “When you relinquished your lands to build this inn, I thought - you didn’t like to rule. But this…”

“Dedue, I -”

“You always had that book tucked in your arms,” Dedue continued, heedless of Ashe’s words. His voice was soft, as if trying to figure it out for himself, “you read it to me, to anyone who would listen. You dreamed of it. And now, you…”

Ashe’s mouth felt dry. This wasn’t the conversation to have in the middle of their dining area, but Dedue was too shocked to let it rest. He felt uncomfortable, put on the spot, for something that he never intended Dedue to have found out about.

“It wasn’t right,” he finally blurted out, the suddenness of his voice stopping Dedue in his tracks. Ashe finally turned toward him, his eyes flashing as he moved to pick up the plates again, to shoulder past Dedue into the kitchen.

Dedue followed him, of course he did.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Ashe replied, setting the dishes in the sink and rolling up his sleeves so that he could wash them, “what would I do in Fhirdiad? I’d stand at attention all day, teach some kid how to ride a horse, how to kill people, I’d dress fancy for courts and have people whisper about me behind my back.”

He turned the water on, reaching for the sponge. He remembered, bitterly, the sag in Dedue’s shoulders when he visited Ashe’s new inn, the way that the political whispers and murmurs had affected him, the way that Dimitri’s Duscur plans and proposals were so ill-received that Dedue bore the brunt of the most cruel gossip Ashe had ever heard.

Dedue had come back, and back again, for the taste of food from his homeland. Eventually, he neglected to return to Fhirdiad at all.

“At least here, I can - I can give people food and tell them stories about my friend.” For all that he was angry - at the way of the world, not at Dedue - Ashe found it melting away into a heat that threatened to spill over and make him cry again. “I can tell them how you saved their king, I can tell them about Duscur customs and feed them food, show them flowers, hang up artwork - I can show them how great you are, and _make_ them see…”

Dedue’s hand reached out from behind him to gently turn off the tap. Just as well, Ashe wasn’t actually doing the washing anyway. The motion left his arm close to him, close enough that Ashe could lean into him, touch his cheek to the inside of Dedue’s elbow. Dedue didn’t move then, his fingers still clutching at the tap, Ashe pressed into him with a soft sound of surrender.

“I don’t want you to give up your dream for me,” Dedue finally told him after taking all of that in. Ashe’s gaze flickered downward to the standing water, his wet hands, and he set his jaw tight.

“It isn’t for you,” he whispered, “it’s for... everyone. I’m going to do everything that I can to - to -”

Dedue moved, his other arm sliding over Ashe’s other shoulder, drawing him back against his chest and holding him tight. Ashe took a deep hiccuping breath and continued, water dripping from his fingers to the floor.

“Stories aren’t real. I learned that. War is… it’s bloody and it’s terrible and the stories try to make it sound noble but it isn’t.” Ashe turned then so that he could face Dedue, setting his damp hands against his chest while Dedue held him closer, his large hands pressed against the small of his back. “I won’t sell my life to a fantasy, not when I can… if I can change even one person’s mind about Duscur, then it’s worth it.”

“- _’nother round!_ ” Came the clamoring voice from the next room.

Neither of them responded for a moment. Dedue watched Ashe, something unreadable in his expression, but eventually it melted into something softer, sweeter, and that familiar smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I love you,” he said and Ashe tucked his head into the expanse of Dedue’s chest while the taller man’s arm shifted up to thread fingers through his hair.

“I love you too,” Ashe whispered back, listening to the strong beat of Dedue’s heart.

They stood there for a long moment, curled into one another with Ashe’s fingers slowly drying against Dedue’s shirt. He luxuriated in his lover’s arms, feeling nothing but warmth and kindness and yes, _this_ is what he was made for, it’s what he was supposed to do. He could feel it more than anything else when Dedue held him like this.

“ _Barkeep! More beer!_ ”

Ashe startled out of his reverie, pulling himself away from Dedue’s grip.

“Ah - sorry, I’m coming!”

He moved, but as he turned to go, Dedue’s strong fingers caught him by the wrist and pulled him close once more, sweeping him back against the bulk of him and tipping his chin up for one quick, chaste kiss. Ashe melted at the touch of their lips and he wanted to stay, he wanted to be with him, he wanted - everything.

But, Dedue’s fingers found their way to his shoulder when the kiss was over and he turned him, giving a little push so that Ashe could get back out there.

“I’ll do the dishes,” he offered, and Ashe stumbled into the dining area, collecting himself quickly so that he could serve his customer.

_

Later that night, after the doors were closed and locked and everyone at the inn was safe in their rooms, Dedue and Ashe tangled into one another.

It was soft. Sighs and airy breaths, the warmth and heat of their bodies and the slick of sweat-dampened skin, all of it tangling together until Ashe felt drunk with it, until Dedue finally ( _finally_ ) tugged the shirt from his shoulders and fell back against the bed.

Ashe loved this. He loved throwing a leg over Dedue’s waist, feeling the stretch in his thighs just to straddle this mountain of a man under him. He loved Dedue, how his hands always felt so warm, so tender when he pushed the rest of his clothing off, opened his pants to get at his cock. There was always something gentle about the way that Dedue handled him, and Ashe never felt so desired as he did when Dedue was underneath him.

“Your hair,” he laughed, reaching up to finally undo the tie holding it back, letting white strands slip across Dedue’s temple, enough for him to tangle his fingers into, to lean down - he had to _stretch_ to reach him, Dedue was so goddess-damned tall - and kiss him, grinding their hips together in a fluid motion as he did so.

Dedue’s arms reached up around his back and embraced him while he rocked up against him, deepening the kiss and nipping his way into Ashe’s mouth to taste him. Sometimes, Dedue would roll them over like this, so that he could brace Ashe’s entire body with his own, sometimes they just touched like this, gentle kissing and warm skin.

Ashe broke the kiss, but only so he could reach next to him for the bedside table, tug the drawer open for the familiar bottle of oil that they kept there.

In response, Dedue tilted his head, lifting a hand up to stroke his fingers along Ashe’s jaw.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and for good reason: while they indulged in this every once in awhile, it often left Ashe too sore to do much of anything for the next day or so. It was generally easier and less rigorous to use their hands or their mouths, or - on one bright and erotic occasion - Ashe’s thighs.

But Ashe nodded all the same, smiling brightly down and curling his fingers over Dedue’s own on his face.

“I want to feel you tonight,” he murmured, tipping his head to kiss at Dedue’s palm, “all of you.”

And with a desire like that, how could he say no?

Dedue made a low sound in the back of his throat while Ashe unstoppered the bottle and smoothed oil onto his fingers. He couldn’t see when Ashe reached behind him, but his expression was _ravenous_. Ashe needed time for this, preferred to start with his own fingers, and when he nudged the first one inside, he thought _we really don’t do this enough_.

He needed to focus though, balancing carefully on Dedue’s thighs, and so he straightened so that he could have more room, arching his back over Dedue, unaware of the absolute _image_ he made, but aware suddenly, of the thickness of Dedue’s cock, nudging at his pants underneath Ashe’s thighs.

“Eager?” He asked, teasing, and Dedue murmured in response, resting his hands on Ashe’s knees, watching him with a fire in his eyes.

“For you?” Dedue asked, his gaze stealing downward to the crux of Ashe’s thighs, as if trying to see what he was doing. Ashe flexed upward as he added a second finger, and one of Dedue’s hands - the one with a scar on the back - slid inward, up the tender skin of the inside of Ashe’s thigh, his thumb skimming along the side of his cock. “Always.”

Ashe let out a soft noise at that, the extra stimulation, and Dedue’s hand slid lower, encouraged him to prop himself up just a little more, knuckles brushing against his balls, until he could feel the complexity of Ashe’s hand behind him, underneath him.

It was hard not to tremble at the feeling of Dedue’s fingers under him and Ashe sucked in a shaky breath when Dedue felt his way blindly down the crease of him until his larger fingers nudged at the space where Ashe was pressing inside - but he didn’t push in, didn’t force Ashe to go any faster.

Instead, Dedue watched him, tipping his chin back to see how Ashe keened as he _felt_ what he was doing, touched over the slide of Ashe’s hands into himself and let out a low, satisfied rumble at the sensation of it.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he murmured as Ashe flirted with pressing a third finger in before changing his mind, dipping his hand back into the oil and bringing it lower, “spreading yourself open for me. I don’t know how I ever deserved you.”

And to hear that, that _Dedue_ of all people - the kindest and most empathetic person he knows - thought he didn’t deserve Ashe, a pickpocket and meager archer… well, it burned something in him and when he brought his hand back down behind him, he grasped at Dedue’s fingers instead, soaking them in oil from his own slick fingers and guiding him up against his hole.

“I’d give you everything. All of me is yours.” He was babbling but he hardly cared, not when Dedue adjusted with the new unspoken request and sank his first finger into him, knuckle-deep and _thick_ , the size of both Ashe’s index and middle finger put together.

Hands free now, Ashe could lean forward and press his palms to Dedue’s shoulders to relieve his thighs from having to hold himself up. The oil spread over Dedue’s skin from his hand but he didn’t think either of them cared when it meant that he could leverage himself up higher like this, feel the insistent press of Dedue’s second finger prying him open, making him moan.

“How do you,” he started, panting, “how can you -” How did he _know_ just how to undo him? Dedue’s fingers slid in deep, deeper than Ashe’s could go and expertly crooking to try and find the spot inside of him. It was clear when he hit it, Ashe’s spine arched as if shocked by electricity, a stifled gasp echoing through the air around them both.

Dedue shifted up to sit partially and Ashe was thankful for it. He must have been sensing the tremor in his thighs, the way he was about to turn to jelly and be unable to hold himself over him much more. Dedue’s free hand wrapped around Ashe’s waist, keeping him pinned to where he was as a third finger pressed in.

Ashe whimpered, the pain of it searing low in his spine and his head fell forward to Dedue’s shoulder with three large fingers buried in him. For what it was worth though, Dedue went slow after the initial intrusion, gently opening him up and spreading him wide, wider than he’d be able to do to himself.

After a few fraught moments, Ashe began to move with him, rocking his hips with the careful motion that Dedue had set against him, slowly leaning into it, learning what he could take and what he could not.

“I’m ready,” Ashe told him and Dedue nodded, equally eager. He couldn’t do much like this though, with his pants still on (why were his pants still on?) underneath Ashe’s lithe body on top of him.

With that, Dedue drew his fingers out, resulting in a soft gasp, and reached his arms around Ashe’s waist so that he could move him, bodily lifting him up and rolling him to his back.

Ashe would _never_ get tired of being lifted as if he weighed nothing, as if he were simply a ragdoll for Dedue to move how he pleased.

Free from the body on top of him, Dedue opened his pants fully, sliding both them and his underclothes down to his ankles and kicking them off and Ashe did little to hide how he enjoyed the view.

Dedue’s body was scarred but powerful, thick muscles knotting over his back, his biceps, his thighs. The size of him wasn’t just height, it was _bulk_ , as unmovable and sturdy as the fortresses they’d taken reprieve in. Ashe always found himself staring every time he laid eyes on the corded muscle in his arms - being his size, born small, malnourished for part of his life, he’d never been able to grow that sort of bulk and he both envied and appreciated Dedue’s casual strength and the long, curved expanse of his body.

There wasn’t much time to openly stare though, because as soon as the last of his clothing was off, Dedue was _on_ him, laying warmly over him, one of his legs pressed between Ashe’s own and hitching up until he could feel the firmness of his leg pressing up against the underside of his cock, nudging at his balls.

Ashe whimpered, bringing Dedue down for a languid kiss and felt Dedue relax above him. He reached for the oil once more to slick his own cock before leaning down into him and trailing a hand down the expanse of Ashe’s stomach until he could grip lightly at his aching need.

“Ah,” Ashe breathed, hitching up his leg until the inside of his knee brushed against Dedue’s hip. An idea struck him and he slowly wrapped his leg around the other man’s back, using the leverage there to shift his hips upward into him, to feel the brush of Dedue’s hardness against the inside of his thigh and - and lower.

“Oh…”

Dedue looked down, regrettably letting go of Ashe’s cock for a moment to grip at his other thigh, to pull him up until both of his legs could cross behind the small of Dedue’s back.

“Is this alright?” He asked and Ashe nodded, trying to keep it together as Dedue reached downward again, gripping at his own cock and guiding it to the inside of Ashe’s thighs. In response, Ashe threw his arms around Dedue’s shoulders, clinging to him tightly as he felt the first tentative breech of Dedue’s hard length into him.

“I’ll go slow.”

Of course he would, he always went slow - a blessing, really, it was hard enough to take him even with all of their preparations, but Ashe meant what he said earlier, _I want to feel all of you_ and so he barely let out more than a squeak when Dedue pressed with a gentle insistence until the head of his cock was buried inside of him.

And the stretch was… well, wider than even three fingers, Ashe thought, but having his legs spread around Dedue’s hips helped him to stay open, to stay relaxed and keep taking him. _Taking_ him, as Dedue inched forward in furtive little thrusts, opening him up for him and allowing for an easier slide each time he nudged in deeper.

Ashe clung to him, his delicate fingers in tight fists behind Dedue’s shoulders as the larger man pressed in, in, _in_ , until he could not press forward any further.

They both lay like that, Ashe breathing heavily, holding onto Dedue tightly with his face pressed into his throat, his breath coming in wet little gasps against the soft area of Dedue’s neck. It felt big, _so_ big, and he knew that he’d taken it before, but each time it felt as if he was splitting in two under the sheer girth of his lover and it took Ashe a few moments to fully calm himself from the wicked burn of it.

(If pressed, he’d admit that he liked it - he liked feeling like his world was beginning and ending at the press of Dedue’s cock, liked _taking_ it, as if it were an achievement to envelop such a large man into his small body, liked having every other thought pushed from his mind except _this_ : his best friend, his lover, so tender and gentle with him, despite the fact that he could overpower him in a heartbeat, could hold him down and _fuck_ him if he wanted to.

He never did, and the fact that Ashe knew he never would brought a warmth to his chest that was seemingly out of place when Dedue was currently pressed _this_ deep inside of him.)

“Go,” Ashe told him shakily, “move.”

And Dedue did.

He pulled out, hips sliding against the inside of Ashe’s thighs, and pressed back in, slow and secure, testing the boundaries. With their relative sizes, there was no way Dedue could even try to avoid hitting his prostate and Ashe whined once he was seated fully back inside, the pleasure of it beginning to overtake the sting of pain.

Again. Again. Dedue picked up in rhythm and Ashe loosened his grip on his shoulders to relax against the bed so he could see him, see _him_ , those gentle eyes he fell in love with, the way his hair fluttered past his nose with the movement of it, his quick, huffing breaths.

Ashe was dewy-eyed with it, made mindless as easily as anything and with the fifth, sixth, seventh thrust in, his arms were unseated and fell flat against the bed.

Dedue worked his way inside of him with his powerful hips and the raw strength in his thighs and even if he would not take him violently, Ashe still felt undone by this man above him, so soft with it but so _desperate_ that he could not help but to slip one of his hands between them to wrap his fingers around his own cock, stroking himself with the tempo of Dedue’s easy thrusts.

“You’re so good,” Ashe worked out, his voice barely a whisper. His other hand rose to Dedue’s face, tucking his hair behind his ear, mouth hanging open to just _breathe_ through it, and what a picture Ashe made with his chin tilted back, his delicate spine arching into him, legs loosening their grip, and how much he loved him, how much he loved everything about him -

Dedue came suddenly, groaning with it and slamming into Ashe one final time. Ashe could feel the pulse of him, sticky and sweet inside and it felt like - it was just so - he couldn’t bring words to it, it felt secure, it felt like he was loved, like he was the most desirous thing in all of Fodlan.

His hand fell away from his own cock, still hard and aching with it, as Ashe just basked in the sensation of Dedue slowly beginning to soften inside of him, Dedue gingerly withdrawing and leaving him wet and open. The loss of him hurt almost as much as the initial burn of the stretch but Dedue did not give Ashe time to mourn it.

Instead, he gently unclasped Ashe’s legs from around his hips and slinked down his body, hands rubbing over his chest, his stomach, his hips.

Dedue took him into his mouth as quick as he could in one fluid motion, swallowing around Ashe’s - admittedly, smaller - cock and pressing lower, overwhelming Ashe in the hot warmth of his mouth, the wetness of his tongue, the pressure of his cheeks as he sucked him down.

“Oh, goddess - Dedue, please -”

Without anywhere else to go, Ashe’s fingers buried themselves in Dedue’s hair, trying not to pull but failing somewhat. Dedue didn't mind, he’d never minded, and Ashe arched into him with a violent cry as he went _deeper_ , until he was pressed against Ashe’s groin and held him there, hot and too tight, and there was nothing for Ashe to do but come.

He did so with the loudest noise he’d made yet, bracketing Dedue’s head with his thighs, his fingers, holding him in place as he came hot down his lover’s throat. His body rolled with it, undulating without any sort of self consciousness, until there was nothing left of him and he sagged back into the mattress with a sputtering shaky gasp.

Dedue finally surfaced for air, swallowing it all down and breathing heavily through his nose to catch his breath. Ashe whined, wordless in his post-orgasmic reverie, reaching for him to draw him up closer again, next to him.

Ashe always wanted to cuddle when it was over.

With a smile, Dedue moved up to the head of the bed, turning to lay on his back and to wrap an arm around Ashe, pull him in close and pillow his head on his chest.

It was quiet.

Ashe blinked slowly, blearily beginning to drift off after such an encounter, but was kept awake by Dedue’s hand threading gently through his hair, fingers catching soft strands of it and pulling it back, thoughtful, awake.

“Mm,” Ashe finally said at the attention, nuzzling his way into Dedue’s shoulder, “I liked that.”

He could hear Dedue’s smile in his voice when he replied, fingers spreading out to press his palm flat against the back of Ashe’s head, holding him close.

“As did I. I like you every way I can have you.”

Ashe found himself flushing despite everything they’d just done and he nestled further into Dedue, slinging an arm over him and readying himself to fall asleep.

And still, Dedue’s fingers stroked over him. Careful. Thoughtful. Ashe blinked, trying to relax into it, but he couldn’t. Dedue wasn’t sleeping, and although his breathing came out purposefully even, Ashe could hear his heart thumping harder, louder than usual. Not just because of the exertion, he thought, he’d have calmed from that by now.

His lips pursed in a frown and he tilted his head up, pulling away from Dedue’s fingers to look at him, where he was looking up toward the ceiling.

“Is everything okay?”

Dedue blinked, his eyes fluttering for a moment, before he tipped his chin down to focus on Ashe.

“Yes - of course. I’m sorry to worry you.”

Unconvinced but not wanting to push the issue, Ashe slowly sank back down against him, snuggling into his prior position. The fingers returned, tracing along the shell of his ear. Ashe’s eyes opened and he stared at the wall, unseeing, curious.

“...what are you thinking about?”

There was a long pause. Dedue’s hand stilled and Ashe thought that maybe he’d overextended, pried to much. Something was clearly on his mind - a feat that Ashe couldn’t understand, as he’s fairly certain that he’d just had his own brains fucked out and could think of nothing but the warmth of his lover and how sleepy he was.

Except, when Dedue finally spoke, his words pushed all of that from Ashe’s mind.

“...I was thinking about asking you to marry me.”

Ashe sat up, very suddenly.

He looked back toward Dedue and his rump gave a twinge of complaint at the motion - he ignored that. Instead, he simply let his mouth hang open as he stared at him. Never one to let awkwardness rule him, Dedue stared back, but Ashe could still feel the pounding of his heart through the palm that rested on Dedue’s chest.

“You _what_?”

He didn’t mean for it to sound accusatory, but incredulous - maybe that. To his credit, Dedue didn’t flinch. He must have expected Ashe’s surprise.

“It’s rare for two men to marry, I know. But I thought - I always hoped that it would be the next step of our path together.” There was a pregnant pause while Ashe gaped at him and Dedue struggled to sit up on his elbows, tilting his head toward Ashe as if this was the most casual conversation in the world. “If you agree, I’ll prepare a formal proposal. If not…”

He swallowed hard and _now_ Ashe could see the anxiety reflected in Dedue’s heartbeat, _now_ he could see the quick flit of his eyes downward, unsure, concerned.

“...if not then I would still like to continue our relationship, but I will not bring up the matter again.”

Ashe continued to stare. How could he not? But as time went on, he began to work his way through the conversation, to see Dedue’s true intent. This wasn’t - they were just talking about it, Dedue just wanted to know if he was interested.

In truth, he’d never thought much about it. Sure, Ashe had seen himself growing old with Dedue, had always thought that they’d just run the inn for the rest of their lives together, fall into bed together, celebrate their lives together, but _marriage_... he thought about it then: a ceremony to celebrate the two of them, finding one another despite all odds… rings that they could wear to connect them to one another, a physical reminder of what they had.

He thought about seeing Dedue stride down the aisle in an event for _him_ , with everyone watching him, seeing him the way that Ashe saw him. He thought about being promised to one another forever, bonded, and really, how could he not want that?

Ashe didn’t trust himself to speak, but he nodded once, a sharp jerk of his chin and Dedue’s brows furrowed in response.

“Is that a… ?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he breathed, drawing in close to him again, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and leaning in for a long kiss. “Yes, of course I would be - wait, why would you propose to _me_?”

Dedue scoffed, the relief giving way to a lighthearted sort of laugh. Ashe continued, a fake frown on his face.

“I mean, couldn’t I also propose to you?”

“Well,” Dedue started, the flush on his cheeks and his brilliant, brilliant smile making Ashe feel weak all over again, “it _was_ my idea.”

Ashe laughed brightly, play-shoving at his shoulder as he sank back into him, arms wrapped firmly around his neck and clutching him as close as he could.

“Very well. I accept your - proposal of a proposal.”

He could feel Dedue’s smile against his cheek, Dedue’s lips skirting their way back to his ear, and Ashe felt his heart leap to his throat again at the thought of it. He felt wanted, precious, loved, so much that he felt as if he was going to burst with it.

Funny, how often Dedue made him feel like that.


End file.
